


The First Fifteen Months

by Lagerstatte



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, M/M, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagerstatte/pseuds/Lagerstatte
Summary: After five months things start deteriorating – his father’s health first of all, starting off the cascade-effect. Noct’s motivation leaves, Ignis’ sly smile promptly follows, as does their sex life, the casual intimacy. By six months they stop sharing a bed altogether, pyjamas or no. Ignis only turns up to cook and clean and nag, then leaves again for his own apartment. It takes Noct a little while to realise it’s him driving Ignis away, and not the other way round.By that point he’s too angry to do anything about it.





	The First Fifteen Months

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Not beta read, but any concrit is more than welcome!

It’s been a month and Ignis is still jumpy.

On moving into the apartment, keys had been a major point of contention – namely, who got them and who didn’t. It’s a disagreement Noct is confident he came out on top of: he has two sets, and Ignis the third and last. Once or twice he’s lent his second set out to Prompto, but otherwise it’s just the two of them. No guards, no house staff, no nosy parents.

Ignis still needs to be thoroughly encouraged into sleeping naked, much less walking about the rest of the apartment naked. Noct thinks sadly of his fantasy of Ignis serving breakfast in an apron and nothing else, and shelves it for the time being.

So even though there is approaching zero chance of them being interrupted, Ignis holds onto habits formed from when they lived in the Citadel. He changes into his pyjamas after sex, even slipping out of bed after Noct’s nodded off to sleep on the couch. Noct only realised that one when he’d woken up to piss in the middle of the night, because Ignis was always up before him, dressed and started on breakfast, and how was Noct meant to know he hadn’t stayed the whole night in bed?

Noct thinks he’d still be annoyed by it, except for the fact that it’s not really Ignis’ fault he’s uncomfortable with this kind of thing, and Noct is always trying not to be _that_ asshole, given their roles, and how much of a pushover Ignis usually is.

By three months, Ignis has cooled down a lot. Noct hasn’t caught him on the couch in a while. One time after surprise shower sex Ignis had allowed himself to be distracted on the return trip to the bedroom to get dressed, and Noct still can’t sit at the dining table with blushing.

Ignis had been _so embarrassed_ after the moment had passed. It’s definitely not going to happen again any time soon, but Noct counts it as a win anyway.

Of course, after five months things start deteriorating – his father’s health first of all, starting off the cascade-effect. Noct’s motivation leaves, Ignis’ sly smile promptly follows, as does their sex life, the casual intimacy. By six months they stop sharing a bed altogether, pyjamas or no. Ignis only turns up to cook and clean and nag, then leaves again for his own apartment. It takes Noct a little while to realise it’s him driving Ignis away, and not the other way round.

By that point he’s too angry to do anything about it.

It takes until month twelve until Noct tells himself things are more or less how they used to be. How he used to be.

Prompto starts coming over more often. They play video games and eat takeout and drive Ignis to distraction.

He and Ignis have sex for the first time in months. It’s a little awkward; the second time is better, and by the third they’ve slipped back into it as if it had never stopped.

The anniversary of moving in comes and goes. Noct misses it entirely, only realises when Prompto mentions it two weeks later. Ignis must have remembered – he always remembers these things. Noct doesn’t know how to feel about it all. He pretends it doesn’t matter and eventually, it doesn’t. He tells himself he’s growing up, becoming more mature.

Ignis’ workload increases. Unless Noct wants to wake and eat at five-thirty – and he doesn’t – breakfasts with Ignis becomes a weekend thing only. And even then Ignis is usually up by seven, breakfast by eight, and working at Noct’s desk or out of the apartment altogether by nine. He’s got a lot to get through, and training and private research on top of it all. Noct wants to tell him to stop working so hard, but when Ignis is doing it all purely for Noct’s sake, it makes it awkward. Particularly when Noct knows he should also be working hard, but isn’t.

On the fourteen month, on the first weekend, Noct wakes at ten, eats the breakfast Ignis had left for him, and goes back to bed. He doesn’t have anything planned that he can’t do in the evening, he’s exhausted, and he’s determined not going to let Ignis’ disapproval get in the way of him and sleep.

Weirdly enough, Ignis doesn’t look disapproving. He’s got some kind of expression going on as he watches Noct slope off back to the bedroom, eyes tightening and mouth doing something off, but Noct knows disapproval well enough to know it’s not that. Whatever. As long as he doesn’t snitch on him, Noct doesn’t care.

On the second weekend of the fourteenth month, Noct wakes up with his arm slung over Ignis’ waist. Without thinking Noct shuffles closer, pleasantly tired and warm and sinking into the softness of Ignis’ relaxed body. Ignis grips his hand and pulls it, tugging him until they’re pressed up as close as possible, fitting chest to back. Ignis’ hair and shirt collar tickles Noct’s face as he burrows down and presses his lips to the back of his neck. The noise Ignis makes is more apparent in the vibration through their chests than by sound.

Noct lies there for another few moments, simply revelling in it all, before it slowly occurs to him that he’s not about to fall straight back to sleep. He’s not actually all that tired. He blinks, wakes a little further. Sunlight is spilling in from around the closed curtains. He can just about make out the clock – quarter to eleven.

His first, immediate thought is that Ignis is sick. Really, really sick, to still be in bed at this time. Fear hits him like a slap and he bolts upright.

Ignis doesn’t look sick, turning onto his back to stare, clearly bewildered, up at Noct. His voice, when he says Noct’s name, doesn’t sound any different to how it usually does.

There’s something about his face that makes Noct pause, the fear turning to embarrassment. He sits back on his heels.

Beneath him, Ignis shuffles up until he’s half-sitting, back against the headboard. He looks, of all things, guilty. He also looks beautiful, without his glasses, hair sticking up at odd angles, face a little flushed. The top couple of buttons on his shirt are undone, and the collar is half flat up against his neck, half down and badly creased. Behind the embarrassment, something in Noct aches.

Ignis’ eyes flicker to the clock, though Noct is unsure whether he can read it or not. ‘I–’ he says, looking back to Noct, a helpless expression on his face that Noct hates immediately.

‘Why aren’t you up yet?’ Noct says, and okay, maybe he could be a little more polite, but he doesn’t enjoy feeling embarrassed, chest aching.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ignis says. ‘It’s just, I thought… you used to enjoy sleeping in with me, in the mornings. And we hadn’t done it in so long.’

Noct doesn’t really know how to reply, because when it’s phrased like that it seems like such a simple, innocuous thing, which would make him the one who’s massively overreacting. ‘Don’t you have work,’ he says, because no matter how much he wants to lie back down in Ignis’ lap, pull up the covers around his ears and close his eyes, now he’s dug this hole he doesn’t feel inclined to leave.

‘I did most of it last night,’ Ignis says, and if it’s true there’s no way Noct can tell. Ignis hadn’t even been back by the time Noct had gone to bed, but that’s hardly unusual.

Very cautiously, Ignis sits up properly and puts a hand on Noct’s arm. Noct jerks away. The mood’s gone, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up, gets changed, leaving his underwear and pyjamas in a pile on the floor. It’s not even until he gets to the kitchen that he realises, of course there’s no breakfast waiting for him, and that only makes him even more angry. He’s a fucking idiot, he tells himself as he goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He screwed up. Why does he have to be so fucking stupid? He’s mad at himself, mad at Ignis for making him act like this, and by the time he’s out of the bathroom he’s absolutely furious to see Ignis standing, hesitating, in the kitchen.

‘Would you like some breakfast?’ Ignis says.

‘No,’ Noct says. He grabs his keys and leaves.

After that, Noct tries. He really does try, but it’s so hard sometimes, and Ignis is a walking, talking reminder of his failures, both literally and metaphorically. Noct doesn’t apologise – to begin with he can’t, and after a few days Ignis acts like it hadn’t happened at all, and Noct doesn’t want to bring it and all the bad feelings back up again. Then it’s been so long it’s not even like an apology would mean anything, and Noct knows he’s only making it worse for himself, but Ignis is cooking his favourite foods, and buying him the new album of a band he likes but completely lost track of, and making excuses for him when he doesn’t show up to a drinks reception he’d promised to go to. He gets tickets to a fishing convention and doesn’t say a thing when Noct doesn’t even end up going. He smiles, occasionally, and makes stupid puns.

He still spends the rest of month fourteen’s nights in his own apartment, downstairs.

The tipping point comes early in the fifteenth month. Noct’s in bed, alone, jerking off to memories of Ignis – naked, sweat-streaked, unbearably hot as he worshipped Noct’s inner thighs and balls and dick with his lips and tongue, and beautiful and clever and kind, patient, gentle yet fierce when he needs to be, selfless to the point of absurdity, and Noct realises he’s crying. He can’t stop.

He cleans himself up, gets dressed, and goes down to Ignis’ apartment before he can stop himself.

By the time he rings the doorbell – he has keys, but he’s never once used them, and isn’t entirely sure where they are – he’s positive his face is bright red and miserable with shame. He shouldn’t be disturbing Ignis’ sleep, or work, or whatever he’s doing. He already demands too much from him; intruding on the only personal space he had left is wrong.

It’s too late to leave. Ignis opens the door; he’s still dressed. Still working, then. Without hesitation he stands to one side and gestures wordlessly for Noct to come in.

Ignis’ apartment is smaller than Noct’s. The furniture is understated. There are lots of books, folders and notebooks, and potted plants, but not much else.

Noct hadn’t considered what would happen if Ignis had turned him away – it hadn’t been a possibility in his mind. Yet now he’s here, he doesn’t know what to do.

‘Sit down,’ Ignis says, mildly, and goes off to the kitchen as Noct sits and stares at the coffee table books in front of him. There’s one on Altissian glassware, and another on a designer of _haute couture_ Noct recognises very distantly. Below them is one on traditional south-eastern Niflheim art. Noct stares at it and wonders what some other of the crownsguard might have to say about that, if they ever found out.

Ignis returns with a mug of tea, pressing it into Noct’s hands before he can refuse.

‘A bad dream?’ Ignis tries, sitting down next to him.

‘Uh,’ Noct says. ‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t know if Ignis can tell if he’s lying or not, but he knows Ignis won’t pry either way. The tea is too hot to drink, and he rests it on one knee.

There’s a pause and Noct risks a glance up at Ignis. Ignis is staring dully down at the floor in front of him. He’s neatly dressed, but there’s a dishevelled look about him, somehow. He looks uncomfortable sitting on his own couch in his own apartment.

‘I’ll go,’ Noct says, but before he can even set his tea down Ignis puts a hand on his arm.

‘No,’ Ignis says, and pulls his hand back to himself quickly. ‘Please, stay.’

There’s another awkward silence, and Noct would leave just to avoid that, whether he’s being a burden on Ignis or not. He shuffles his feet in Ignis’ unworn guest slippers and takes a sip of tea that scalds his tongue.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ignis says. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. ‘I could have done more. I’ve been too distracted, lately. Work...’

It takes Noct a few seconds to realise he’s not talking about them sitting together awkwardly. It takes some more seconds to realise he needs to tell Ignis that it’s not his fault, only the silence stretches on and he can’t fucking think of a single reasonable thing, now that it’s been ages and he can’t just say, _no_.

‘I’ll try to be better,’ Ignis says, barely more than a mumble, and it doesn’t sound like he’s talking to Noct at all.

‘You don’t need to be,’ Noct blurts out. ‘It’s my fault.’

Ignis looks at him. There’s a smile on his face, stretched thin, but his eyes are warm and filled with indescribable fondness.

They’re sitting pressed together on the couch and Noct isn’t even sure who moved. Ignis wraps his arms around him and tugs him in, holding him with his head in the crook of Ignis’ neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ignis says, breathing it out on the top of Noct’s head, and it’s ridiculous and infuriating because Noct wants to say, _no, I’m sorry,_ but there’s no way now without sounding like a stupid child. Noct clings onto him a little harder and doesn’t say anything. They stay like that for a while, long enough that Noct’s eyes close and he starts to nod off.

‘You should sleep,’ Ignis eventually says. ‘You can stay down here, if you’d like.’ It’s true that it’s late and this isn’t the most comfortable position – his back is all twisted and starting to hurt, and one of his arms is squashed under Ignis’ – but he doesn’t want to leave Ignis’ arms. Neither of them move, anyway.

‘Come to bed with me,’ Noct says, into Ignis’ collarbone.

A slight pause. ‘I have work,’ Ignis says.

‘Come to bed.’

‘I have work, Noct; I need to finish it…’

He’s as selfish as Ignis is selfless, Noct thinks. As much a stupid, spoilt child as Ignis is mature, intelligent and generous. He should go, leave Ignis in peace. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even want to, and what does that say about him?

‘Do you remember the time,’ Ignis says, an unexpected huff of laughter brushing Noct’s hair. ‘When I said I thought you enjoyed sleeping in with me, in the mornings – ages ago, do you remember? I forgot to say, I enjoyed it too. I miss it, Noct. Every day.’

Noct presses his face a little harder into Ignis’ neck. ‘Yeah,’ he says, for lack of anything better.

‘I’ll be there when you wake up,’ Ignis says.

‘Yeah,’ Noct says again. Finally, he lets go.


End file.
